


Throwing Off Sparks

by sburbanite



Series: Crotchrockets in Flight: a series of unrelated DaveKat meteorfics about getting an awkward boner for your best friend [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Black Romance, Black-Red Vacillation, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Meteorstuck, No sex in this one guys, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Red Romance, Revenge, This was supposed to be angsty but it turned into blackrom fluff, goddamn it, sorry bout that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sburbanite/pseuds/sburbanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tenderness isn't something Dave knows how to deal with. Tension and rivalry, however? That feels just like home.</p><p>Alternative title: Dave and Karkat continually one-up one another until things get messy.</p><p>(Rating changed to "M" for awkward teenage fumblings but no sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turn the radio up loud

Dave hears the harsh intake of breath that comes just before Karkat presses warm lips against his. He isn't sure which of them takes It. It would be the understatement of the century to say that Dave is surprised at the fact that Karkat is kissing him. They had been sharing a perfectly normal celebratory fist-bump over the completion of their latest ceiling-scraper can-building, when Karkat had lunged forward ungracefully and initiated...whatever this is. Sometimes, Dave thinks he's never going to understand what the hell is going on in Karkat’s head. 

Karkat is warm, soft, and definitely a lot drier than Terezi had been. They'd only kissed once, but Dave had almost gagged at the ferocity with which she shoved her slimy tongue down his throat. This is different. For one thing the person doing the kissing is a dude, for another, Dave didn't initiate it. He's not sure what to think. It's over before he can really figure anything out, and Karkat is looking at him with disappointed eyes. 

"What the fuck, Dave?" he mutters, breaking eye contact in favor of staring at the floor. "I mean, what even was that? Did you want me to stop or keep going? If you don't fucking move it's a little difficult to tell." 

Dave can hear the hurt in Karkat's voice, the pain he's inflicting with each second of stunned silence. His stomach feels hot and tight, like he might throw up. Like it did on his sixth birthday, when Bro abandoned him at the Mall for two hours to see how he would cope. Like it did the first time Karkat fell asleep leaning against his shoulder. Words won't come, and he realizes too late that Karkat can't see the mental struggle going on behind his shades. 

Irony lights up Dave's brain with its familiar stinging electricity as Karkat turns and leaves, walking out in silence. For a time player, he always seems to be too late. 

\------------ 

Three days pass before Dave manages to track Karkat down. He's hunched over in the chair next to Rose's reading lamp, obviously sick of reading by dim meteor-light. Whatever he's reading isn't holding his attention, however, because one he keeps tugging absently on a lock of hair behind his ear. Dave knows that game; a little bit of physical pain to keep mental anguish at bay. It never works. Grabbing a chair from the dining table, Dave plonks himself down in it in front of Karkat. It's impossible for him to ignore Dave, impossible for him to escape. 

"What do you want?!" is Karkat’s response, the words delivered in an angry huff of hot air. 

The seething rage in his voice immediately sets Dave on edge. 

"What do _I_ want? You have got to be fucking with me, man, because the last thing I remember is you deciding to mash your face into mine and then avoiding me for three goddamn days. I don't think I'm the one who should be answering that question, Karkat."

Karkat's mouth tightens into a thin, grey line. He's pissed, that much is obvious, but Dave isn't sure which of them he's pissed at. 

"Look, Strider. I don't know how things worked on your feeble excuse for a planet, but on _ours_ , the polite thing to do after you reject someone is to leave them the fuck alone for a while. Possibly forever."

It's clear that Karkat is buried deep in the metaphorical horn-pile of an almighty sulk, but Dave isn't about to let him have things his way. As far as Dave is concerned, all of this evasive behavior is an enormous, stinking pile of horseshit. 

"No way, man, this sucks ass. I want to hang out, so we're going to fucking hang out. This was a perfectly good broship before you decided to ditch me for no goddamn reason." 

That gets a reaction. Dave flinches involuntarily as Karkat's book hits the floor with a bang, because of course, Karkat doesn't own any books that aren't monolithic romance bibles. The sound echoes across the common area, and Dave can tell from the set of Karkat's eyebrows that he's embarrassed by how loud it was. Embarrassed Karkat tends to be even louder than irritated Karkat, and Dave braces his eardrums accordingly. 

"Are you fucking dense?! 'No goddamn reason' my ass! You made it quite clear that you don't want anything to do with me! Just leave me the fuck alone!!!" 

Dave rolls his eyes, exasperated. Karkat could easily take down all of the final bosses in the new session if melodrama was a legitimate weapon. 

"Dude. For fuck's sake, I didn't say any of that shit. If I remember correctly, you were the one who kissed me without even asking if that was what I wanted, before deciding that apparently we're not bros anymore because I didn't immediately leap into your weedy little arms. I'm not letting you torpedo the only real fucking friendship I have on this rock because you want to brood in a corner about how you didn't get everything your own way." 

Dave takes a deep breath, examining Karkat's face. He's still simmering, but the hurt underneath all of the bluster seems to be draining away. Tough love seems to be a feasible strategy for dealing with Karkat's moods. 

"All boo hoo, how fucking tragic is my life?" Dave continues in a pantomime growl, "I kissed my friend and he didn't fucking propose to me on the spot. I guess I'll go and mope in a shame-hole forever because I'm _obviously_ so repulsive that no-one should have to suffer my presence." 

Dave thinks for a beat, considering whether to address the elephantine levels of awkwardness between them since Karkat initiated Schrodinger's Kiss. In the end, he chickens out. 

"Get over yourself, Vantas."

Karkat shoots Dave a look that would probably kill a lesser creature, his face a twitching mess of embarrassment, rage and relief. He grinds out a reply between his teeth. 

"Fine. But I'm not fucking entertaining you." 

There's a deep, burning irritation undercutting Karkat's words, which Dave interprets as 'how dare you be right, you piece of shit.' On the other hand, he hasn't fled the room under a black cloud of angst. It's good enough for now. Dave settles himself onto the nearby couch, just close enough that he can watch Karkat's face while he's reading. Since he doesn't appreciate being ignored and avoided, Dave fires up the loudest, bleepiest game on his phone and proceeds to play it at full volume. When Karkat looks up, Dave hits him with his usual deadpan face, challenging him to make something of it. He doesn't, choosing instead to seethe under the guise of reading impassively. Dave smirks internally each time an unexpected bleep or ping makes Karkat's eyebrows furrow. 

He's less pleased when Karkat starts tapping inconsistently on the arm of his chair. Karkat's fingers never keep a regular beat for more than a few seconds, and Dave starts to think that he'd rather grab those fingers in a clenched fist and wrench them back until Karkat submits than listen to any more. That's not a thought he ever predicted having; it's a lot more intense than his usual Karkat-revenge fantasies, which typically involve dropping a bucket of cherry soda on him for the lulz. The tension building in his chest as Karkat tap-tap-pause-taps is both familiar and new. It's recognizable from all of the times Bro dropped piles of quivering smuppets on him, but at the same time, it's something different. Something hot and immediate and uncomfortably illicit. 

It's a tense afternoon, all told, with the two of them locked in their stalemate of passive-aggression. Neither of them mention the kiss, or what it means. Neither of them mention the fact that Dave didn't say anything about not wanting to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I shouldn't be starting new stuff, but there we go. This emerged from a conversation with mostlyharmless about black Davekat and how it doesn't work so well in the Retcon timeline. So then I decided I would see if I could get it to work.
> 
> Probably not a long fic, this one, and it's flowing pretty quickly.
> 
> Title and chapter titles come from Oceanographer's Choice, the penultimate song about two terminally destructive lovers, The Alpha Couple (from the album Tallahassee by The Mountain Goats).


	2. You came in and we locked eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rare double update because I think it gives more of a flavour of what I'm going for than the first chapter by itself.

Things shift subtly after Karkat comes down from his sulk, going more-or-less back to normal as far as Dave is concerned. Karkat goes back to dishing out incredibly inventive insults, and Dave goes back to laughing his ass off at them. It doesn’t escape his notice, however, that Karkat is putting more spite behind each word and has started flipping his shit whenever Dave laughs in his face. Dave isn’t stupid; he knows this is textbook black-flirting. He also knows he definitely shouldn’t be pushing Karkat to see how far he’ll go with it, but it’s just...kinda fun. After what happened last time, Dave is pretty sure he’s safe from being kiss-ambushed for a while. 

This game of one-upmanship is familiar; it’s a safer version of the one he and his Bro used to play. The individual elements of Bro’s relentless campaign _should_ have been fun. There’s nothing objectively awful about sparring and playing video games and drawing comics competitively, after all. Admittedly, an entire childhood of it got a little stale, and Bro was a dangerously terrible loser. Dave still has the scars to prove it. 

This time, though, both of them signed up to play the game voluntarily, and Dave intends to enjoy it. With Karkat, proving that he can stack cans higher or carry more stuff for the Mayor just feels like normal friendship stuff with an undercurrent of weirdly addictive tension. It’s almost better when he loses, because the flush on Karkat’s face when he shows how few fucks he gives is better than a gold medal. 

Dave stretches up to place the last few cans onto his building, which is already comfortably taller than Karkat’s. He’s aware of the angry gaze boring into his back, of the way Karkat’s breathing is heavy with suppressed frustration. It’s not his fault that Karkat’s so short, so he’s just going to have to deal with it. Dave grins into the wall of cans as he realizes Karkat’s staring at the place where his shirt is riding up, before wondering why the fuck he cares. He pushes any musings of what exactly Karkat wants to do to the sliver of stomach he’s ogling down into the large ‘nope’ vault at the back of his mind. This is just a friendly rivalry, he reminds himself, and it’s not his problem if Karkat is reading more into it. 

The place for the final can is _just_ out of reach and the tower is going to look all kinds of wrong without it. Automatically, Dave rises a few inches into the air before triumphantly adding the finishing touch to his masterpiece. Dave opens his mouth so say something smug enough to get Karkat’s temper going, but he never gets the chance. His witty remark is cut off by Karkat’s enraged growl and the sensation of his cape tightening painfully around his neck. Claws pierce the fabric as Karkat wrenches Dave down to earth cape-first, before shoving him off his feet and sending him ass-backwards onto the floor. 

“What the hell?” Dave chokes out, rubbing at the place where the cape nearly strangled him. 

Karkat stands over him, panting and looking like he’s going to explode. A few seconds later, he does. 

“Don’t give me that shit, you piece of god-tier garbage! It’s not enough for you that you’re a lanky streak of bulge-excretions; you have to use your fucking pupa-pan magic to get one over on me? No amount of bullshit wiggler ‘happy thoughts’ are going to keep me from schooling your ass if you try that again.” 

Dave half expects Karkat to walk out in a huff again, since that seems to be his usual coping strategy. Instead, Karkat offers a hand to help Dave up, and Dave can tell he’s suppressing a smirk. _He won_ , Dave realises. _The little fucker thinks he’s won_. He slaps Karkat’s hand away, choosing to rise to his feet using the full levitation powers of an all-powerful god. When he notices that Karkat’s face has split into a full-blown grin, a second round of realization hits him. He just lost _again_. Accepting the hand would have meant admitting weakness, obviously, but relying on magic was even worse. He’s basically just admitted that he can’t win without using his powers, and he wants to kick himself in his own pretentious ass. 

“I guess you’ve got all of the ‘help’ you need, eh Strider? No wonder you needed to get yourself killed so you could play on easy mode.” Karkat croons, incredibly satisfied. 

This time, it’s Dave’s turn to walk out. He knows he’s only making things worse, but at this point, he reasons, how much worse can it get? If he stays, he’ll have to deal with the fact his face has turned scarlet with shame, and the fact that he can’t get Karkat’s smug little grin out of his head. He’s a powder keg, a roiling storm of repressed emotion and teenage hormones, and he’s not about to have a meltdown in front of Karkat. 

Dave hears Karkat call something mocking after him, and he replies with an extended middle finger. Karkat’s scratchy little laugh tells him that probably wasn’t the smartest idea. 

\------------- 

Dave notices his hands shaking as he pulls his cape over his head. He forces them to be still, telling himself it’s the just adrenaline rush of being tumbled onto the floor. Examining his neck in the bathroom mirror, Dave traces the line of the blooming bruise with his index finger. _Just like old times_ , his brain supplies, as he realizes he’s slipped back into planning how he’s going to hide the marks. Karkat didn’t hold back; he pulled hard enough to make Dave’s throat sore for a few days. _No_ , Dave reassures himself, _this is different. I probably actually deserved this, asked for it even._ His hands are shaking again as he remembers the last time he had bruises on his neck. Five stripes of them: four on one side, one on the other. If Bro had evened them out, made them symmetrical, he might not be standing here today. And yeah, it wasn’t always like that, but Dave is pretty sure that John didn’t have to worry about his guardian getting hammered and slamming him against the wall by his throat because he ate the last bag of Doritos. 

Sighing, Dave re-examines the marks again, noting how light they are in comparison with the ones he remembers. He should have a conspicuous but non-serious mark for a week or so, and he wonders if Karkat knows that, if he did it on purpose just to make his black intentions obvious. Pulling the cape back over his head, Dave decides he doesn’t give a shit about anyone seeing them. This isn’t Houston, he’s not going to be taken away to a miserable little children’s home if he doesn’t alchemize a few turtlenecks to wear. And besides, he mostly hangs out with Karkat anyway. It should be a decent opportunity to demonstrate how unfazed by it he is. With a smirk at his rad reflection, Dave exits the bathroom and retires to his room to construct a suitable revenge plan. 

If Rose or Kanaya ask, he’ll just tell them that Karkat stepped on his cape mid-stride and nearly strangled him. Being painted as both clumsy and heavy should drive Karkat right up the nearest wall.


	3. Everybody's going to need a witness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posting chapter 3 because I've done a fair bit of editing to improve things. New chapter sooooon :)
> 
> Also the last Chapter of Don't Tap.

Dave’s insides clench taut when Karkat drops down onto him from a ventilation shaft. Muscle memory takes over, bypassing Dave’s brain and jumping straight to defensive mode. Karkat is lying on his back, gasping for breath with a sword against his throat before Dave can register who or what he is. Behind his shades, his pupils narrow to pinpricks. Adrenaline and fear and the memory of years of constant anxious tension flood his body. Dave fights against his instinct to _strike, kill, defend yourself you little shit_ , feeling the tremor in his sword-arm as he fights to stay the swipe that will take his best friend/rival’s head off. Karkat’s obvious terror goes a long way toward helping to calm the sound of his panicked inner voices. His eyes are saucers, their gaze fixed on Dave’s face. Dave realizes Karkat thinks he’s going to die, and manages to get enough control to fling the sword as far away as possible. As it clangs to the ground, somewhere in a shadowy corner of the lab, Dave falls to his knees and heaves his stomach contents all over the floor. He nearly _killed Karkat_. The thought makes his chest ache, deep and raw.

Looking up and away from the mess in front of him, Dave feels icy stabs of guilt at the way Karkat is panting, one hand clutching the place where Dave's sword was pressed to his throat. He's bleeding, Dave notices, and he's suddenly frozen with horror. Not a lot, not the arterial fountain that would have painted the floor cherry red if he hadn't forced himself to hold back. It's enough to make him dry-heave, though. The sight of Karkat’s blood is worse than the look of disgust on his face, but it's a close call. 

Dave doesn't think he'll be able to speak without breaking the dam holding back his darkest, shittiest emotions, so he's glad when Karkat does it for him. 

"Remind me not to fucking sneak up on you," he croaks, at a fraction of his usual volume. "Or actually, don't bother. I'm not going to need a memo from my asshole of a future self to tell me that I never do it again."

"Sorry." Dave forces out. So much more needs to be said, but he just _can't_ right now. 

Karkat winces as he examines his blood-smeared hand, revealing the short, shallow gash on his neck. It's barely more than a scratch, but it's still too much for Dave to handle. 

"Don't apologize for defending yourself, moron." He snarls, his hand shaking a little as he wipes the blood on his shirt. Unbelievably, there's a tentative smile on Karkat's lips. 

"I could have fucking killed you." Dave replies, incredulous. Karkat's apparent nonchalance is calming, even if it's weird as fuck. 

"As if. Don't flatter yourself, dickmunch. I'm not some defenseless wiggler, and I'm not the one spewing my guts all over the floor." 

His tone is level, conversational, but the familiar mocking undercurrent is back. Karkat is still prodding at him even after almost losing his goddamn head, and it makes the little hairs on the back of Dave's neck stand on end. It's an insane reminder that trolls are truly _alien_ , but it's also pretty fucking _impressive_. Karkat has some serious stones, or whatever the Alternian equivalent is. 

Dave accepts Karkat's hand-up this time, getting to his feet and letting him lead them both away from the mess. Dave notices Karkat stroking thoughtfully at the red scab on his neck a few times. Rather than being pissed that his blood-color is on show for all to see, he actually seems...proud.

Later, Dave makes sure to "accidentally" slosh warm, soapy water all over Karkat’s shoes as he waltzes through the common area swinging a bright-red bucket. Even if Dave is primarily cleaning up after himself to avoid Rose's considerable wrath, it was worth the trip to the alchemiter to make one exactly the right shade. The mortified look on Karkat's face is as pretty as a fucking picture. 

\---------------

Karkat doesn't try to catch Dave off-guard again, whether it's because he's afraid for his life or he just doesn't want Dave to freak out again. It feels odd and surprisingly intimate to have his weakness on display like that, and to have Karkat just leave it alone. Dave wonders what the concession means; if it's something Karkat is putting up with because he thinks Dave is fundamentally soft somehow, a squishy human with blunt teeth and blunt nails and severe paranoia about being surprise-attacked. He really hopes it isn't that. He really hopes it means that Karkat cares enough about him, about whatever strange, exciting, frustrating thing is going on between them, that he'll sacrifice the prime opportunity to jump out on him in order to keep it going. 

As he walks toward Karkat's block, a part of his brain screams that this is wrong, wrong, wrong, that he shouldn't care so much about what Karkat thinks. That if all of this means what he thinks it means, then Karkat is starting to _hate_ him, and that's the opposite of caring for someone. He tells himself that he's making an enemy when what he needs is a friend, and that he certainly shouldn't be getting a sick kind of pleasure from driving another person to distraction. He knows he shouldn't _want_ to be hated.

Karkat answers his door in his usual state of perpetual irritation, made worse by the fact that Dave is deliberately thirty minutes late. The fact that Karkat _knows_ that Dave always knows exactly what time it is makes his tardiness an extra-large fuck-you sundae with rainbow sprinkles. Just as Dave intended it to be. Karkat grumbles under his breath, but doesn't concede Dave's victory. Instead, he brandishes a particularly violent-green grub in one hand, and shoves Dave provocatively with the other. 

"Right, douchelord. We are going to play some motherfucking video-games, so wrap your squishy human behind in a big red bow and prepare to have it handed to you." 

Dave smirks at the mental picture, before wrinkling his nose as a disturbingly organic-feeling controller is thrust into his hand. 

"Dude, you really don't know who you're messing with. I was practically raised by my emotionally distant surrogate parents, Sony and Nintendo. I'll take your ass to go, Vantas, no need to wrap it." 

Karkat grins as he plugs the game-grub into his husktop, and Dave realizes why when the title menu appears. The whole thing is in Alternian. He guesses he should have predicted that, but he's still determined to wipe the smug little victory smile off Karkat's face. The game turns out to be a fighting game, a fairly standard button-masher with some added complications. The weapons are batshit insane; everything from psionically powered razor-disks to broadswords almost as big as the characters themselves. It's clear from the outset that Karkat knows all of the movesets, and intends to spam the dirtiest combo's possible to take Dave down over and over. When a particularly impressive string of buttons summons his character's giant crocodile-lusus to bite Dave's avatar clean in half, Dave has to fight the urge to smack him over the head with the fleshy controller. 

Instead of throwing a childish tantrum, Dave forces himself to calm down and learn Karkat's weaknesses. Karkat isn't a flawless player, he relies too much on flashy throws and prefers to keep Dave within the close range of his favorite character's sickles. After a few dozen cheap deaths, Dave starts to gain some traction. Once he figures out the moveset for a particularly busty character with a sort of spear-gun that shoots swords, he starts to pound Karkat into the ground. When Karkat rage-quits mid-fight and throws himself at Dave, Dave is almost comically prepared for it. He'd been watching Karkat's knuckles turn white and his cheeks turn red for the last ten minutes, waiting for Mount Vantsuvius to blow its top. He effortlessly deflects Karkat's lunge, rolling him over onto his back and sending heat singing through his body. Dave is on top here, both figuratively and literally, and being on top is the fucking best. 

Quick though he may be, Dave is too caught up in enjoying his victory to notice Karkat reaching for his shades. By the time he does, Karkat has a claw underneath one lens and has flicked them off his face. A flash of light almost blinds him as Karkat capchalogues them, and he fights the defensive instinct to close his eyes. Instead of trying to hide his eye-color, Dave uses Karkat's shocked stillness to pin him to the floor, knees restraining his legs and hands pinning Karkat's above his head. Dave pauses, breathing heavily with Karkat suddenly laid out beneath him, completely at his mercy. It's by far the most compromising position he's ever found himself in, basically crotch-to-crotch with Karkat’s warmth pressing uncomfotably against him. Karkat’s apparent helplessness doesn't seem to have diminished his capacity for snark, however, nor has it dented his stupid grin. Dave might be dominating him physically, but Karkat has his shades and his eye-color to boot. Dave's throat burns as he realizes he's still the loser here. 

"So, you're a disgusting mutant too, huh?" Karkat purrs, smugness dripping from each word. "I should have fucking known with how religiously you wear your stupid eye-shields. Good luck hiding it without them." 

Dave feels his rage building, because Karkat knows exactly how it feels to be outed as a freak, and he knows better than anyone how much shit it causes. The gloves are suddenly off, and this is fucking _war._

"Give them back." He growls, twisting his grip on Karkat's wrists in a way that has to hurt, even on Alternian skin. 

"Make me, fuckface." Karkat rumbles in return, deep in the back of his throat. 

"You evil little shit, Vantas. I need those things to keep from going blind! Unless you want me to end up taking cane-lessons from Terezi, I need them back!" 

This time, Karkat doesn't say anything. He just grins wider, obviously amused at the way Dave's voice has risen in pitch and volume. Dave suddenly knows that the only way he's going to get Karkat to stop being so insufferably superior is probably to _kiss him._ Karkat _wants_ Dave to kiss him. Dave might be a pro at lying to himself, but even he can't deny that he really wants to give in and just _do it_. Karkat's smile is infuriatingly relaxed but his body is stretched taught underneath Dave's, his back arching slightly where his spine has the freedom to move. He might as well be yelling "take me now" at the top of his lungs. That particular thought makes Dave's stomach do acrobatic flips; undeniable desire mingles with rage and contempt in his chest. The urge to smash his mouth to Karkat's is maddening, but there's no way he's going to give Karkat what he wants so easily. 

Instead, Dave leans his face down slowly, aping the action of a kiss as he tilts his head to one side and parts his lips slightly. His eyes lock with Karkat's, and he knows he's got him in the palm of his hand. When he's about an inch from Karkat's own, suddenly not-grinning lips, Dave changes course and pushes his face against Karkat's neck, against the weak-spot of his pulse. It's the place the sword nicked him, and Dave licks along it once, slow and sensual, trying not to think about how intense and messed-up and hot this is. Because, he reasons, if he thinks about it there's no way he'll be able to go through with the next part. 

Putting his lips over the wound, Dave sucks at the skin, _hard_ , feeling Karkat's body buck beneath him. It must be painful, but instead of crying out, Karkat lets slip a high, keening whine. It's an unmistakable sound of pleasure, and it makes Dave feel like the god he is. The feeling is heat and victory and the sheer joy of reducing Karkat into a mewling mess. He keeps sucking, adding pressure from his teeth, and not even caring when he tastes alien blood in his mouth. Karkat doesn't seem to give a shit, he's too busy squirming weakly, forcing his body upward to get more contact with Dave's. 

When Dave feels something moving against what he suddenly realizes is his rock-hard erection, Dave stops mauling Karkat's neck. He's confused and aroused and he wants his fucking shades back, and he sure as hell isn't ready to find out exactly what was feeling him up through his pants. Karkat is totally out of it, lying in full-on submissive mode on his respiteblock floor with a wine-dark hickey as big as Dave's fist on one side of his neck. When Dave snaps the word "shades" at him, he can't comply quickly enough. 

As he walks out, leaving Karkat where he lies, Dave wonders what kind of interesting noises Karkat would make if he actually _did_ kiss him.

Maybe being hated isn't so bad, after all.


	4. I throw myself all around you

If there’s such a thing as a Bad Decision Hangover, Dave wakes with one the next day. He wriggles uncomfortably in the too-warm bedclothes, remembering the taste of Karkat’s skin, Karkat’s _blood_. What the hell possessed him to do something so horribly, weirdly, ecstatically sexual? It felt good, sure, but he shouldn’t have done it. Karkat is going to think that they’re kismetfishes or whatever, and Dave doesn’t even _do_ quadrants. Quadrants and Karkat don’t belong in the same sentence unless it’s ‘for the love of God, Karkat, shut the hell up about the quadrants’. That’s what Dave’s brain tells him, the mantra of _not gay not gay not thinking about kissing karkat no not me no siree but I bet it’d be fucking awesome_. 

Dave forces away the uncomfortable heat in his stomach at the memory of burying his face into the crook of his best friend’s neck. He was so warm and soft, even as he burned with rage. The contrast was intoxicating, stealing away his self-control. He has to stop it from happening again, because Karkat’s going to get hurt if he can’t reciprocate. _If_ he can’t reciprocate. Because, really, what’s stopping him? Even as his brain screams ‘no, no, no’, his dick screams ‘yes, yes, oh fuck yes’. He ends up with a frustrating boner that won’t go away until he takes a literal cold shower. 

Walking back to his room, Dave spots a piece of paper tacked to his door. Unbelievably, it’s a comic, and it’s the shittiest one he’s ever seen. The scrawled title reads ‘Sweet Jeff and Hella Bro Die in a Fire’ and it introduces the original character of ‘Smart Guy’, whose role seems to be to point out how stupid everything is in all-caps grey text. By the time Dave gets to the titular fire, he's crying with laughter, curling up with silent spasms in his desk chair. It’s so unbelievably terrible, it might be even more ironic than his own work. The way the pen has torn the paper in several places is particularly artistic. It’s the hate-date equivalent of a bunch of roses at his doorstep, and for a few seconds his chest swells with pride. Dave Strider is a fucking master at black-romance. That shouldn’t be a good thing, he isn’t meant to have a giant smile on his face. He forces himself to stop before the Neverending Boner rears its head again. The unwanted stomach-butterflies will go away if he concentrates hard enough. 

Even so, it would be rude not to thank the artist for his masterwork. 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TG: yo karkles  
TG: to what do i owe the honor of this legendary piece of shit i find taped to my door  
TG: your handiwork i assume  
CG: DAMN FUCKING RIGHT, STRIDER. HOW DOES A PAIL FULL OF SATIRE TASTE?  
TG: wow dude bringing out the big guns with the pail talk  
TG: you must be pretty pissed  
CG: OH, I’M NOT JUST PISSED, YOU IGNORANT PIECE OF SCUM. I’M A WHIRLWIND OF PAIN AND FURY CENTERED SQUARELY ON YOUR EXPOSED, VULNERABLE BACK.  
CG: IF YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO GET ONE OVER ON ME AGAIN, YOU CAN FUCKING THINK AGAIN.  
CG: NEXT TIME IT’LL BE YOUR TURN TO SQUIRM, STRIDER.  


Dave’s heart picks up the pace a he reads Karkat’s words, imagining how it would feel to be pinned down and marked by Karkat’s teeth. Everything about the picture is wrong, but it just won’t go away. Dave is torn between pouring water or fuel onto the fire burning in his brain. 

TG: oh really  
TG: human junk doesnt squirm karkat  
TG: were not built that way  
CG: I WASN’T TALKING ABOUT YOUR HORRIFYING CROTCH EQUIPMENT, YOU PIECE OF LITERAL SHIT. I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU PAY.  
CG: THE CURRENCY I CHOOSE TO EXTRACT PAYMENT IN REALLY ISN’T UP TO YOU, BUT YOU CAN TAKE MY PROMISE TO THE FUCKING BANK.  


Holy shit, Karkat isn’t messing around. This is it, it’s time to choose. Dave holds his breath as he types, picking out the words that will get him what he wants. Who is he kidding here? It’s fuel all the way. If he's going to burn, Karkat is coming down with him.  


TG: careful dude im still reeling from the sick burns of your little doodle note  
TG: you really ripped into me there  
TG: by the way   
TG: i fucking love it karkat   
TG: i think it might be the second coming of irony jegus  
TG: im gonna keep it forever and kiss it goodnight before i go to bed  
CG: FUCK YOU AND YOUR SARCASM, STRIDER.   
TG: a hundred percent freshly squeezed honesty dude  
TG: so sweet of you to base an oc on me  
TG: im touched   
CG: YOU CAN FUCK THE FUCK OFF, YOU SLIMY SHITSTAIN ON THE CRUSTY UNDERWEAR OF A DEAD SUBJUGGLATOR.  
CG: YOU THINK YOU’RE SO SMART, DON’T YOU?   
TG: according to the evidence in front of my gorgeous baby reds, youre the one who thinks im so smart  
CG: YOU’RE DUMBER THAN THE LAST, SOPOR-ADDLED SPONGE CELL ROLLING AROUND THE BOTTOM OF GAMZEE’S THINK-PAN.  
TG: oh yeah  
TG: you got a thing for dumb and pretty huh  
CG: YOU COULDN’T FIND THE ‘THING’ I HAVE FOR YOU WITH AN INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH SMALLFINDER.  
TG: careful with those fires vantas that was pretty much a self immolation  
TG: gonna have to get you some asbestos underwear if you carry on like that  
TG: although i bet thatd be scratchy as fuck so maybe not im sure theres non scratchy fireproof fabric  
CG: GOD! FUCKING! DAMMIT!  
CG: I FUCKING HATE YOU, STRIDER! I HATE YOU WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND SUNS AND I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL BURN YOU DOWN TO ASHES!   
TG: jeez dude take it down a notch  
CG: FINE.  
CG: I GET IT, OK?   
CG: YOU DON’T DO ‘TROLL ROMANCE’ AND I’M BEING A DESPERATE SACK OF SHIT. I’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE FOREVER.   
TG: lmao man way to read too much into my epic coolness   
TG: i hate you too dumbass  
CG: FUCKING FANTASTIC. STUPID HUMAN PLATONIC HATE. JUST WHAT I NEED.   
TG: jegus fuck karkat   
TG: youre gonna make me say it arent you  
CG: I NEVER KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE SAYING. IT ALL BLURS INTO A SINGLE MORONIC DRONE.  
TG: <3<   
TG: that clear enough for you you big melodrama queen  
CG: OH.  
CG: <3<  
CG: I SEE YOU’VE FINALLY ACCEPTED THE SUPERIORITY OF ALTERNIAN CULTURE.  
TG: yeah man  
TG: ill be jizzing into a bucket in no time  
CG: NOT IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. YOU’RE A PIECE OF ALIEN TRASH WHO DOESN’T DESERVE A BUCKET.  
TG: ok that right there  
TG: thats what im talking about with the whole chill the fuck out thing  
TG: can we just take this black-slowly or whatever  
TG: i dont think im ready for threatening kinky sex given that i dunno what that even involves for freaky bug people  
CG: FINE. I SUPPOSE I CAN DUMB DOWN MY SCINTILLATING REPARTEE TO YOUR LEVEL.  
TG: yeah speaking of   
TG: all of this cliché ‘no buckets for you alien scum’ aint exactly doing it for me  
TG: try a little creativity next time   


turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Leaning back in his desk-chair, Dave luxuriates in the feeling of Karkat stewing in his own juices halfway across the meteor. The boner is back and he doesn't even care, because he literally cannot lose. If he wins this stupid game of barbs and jibes, he gets to experience Karkat practically begging for his touch. If he loses, Karkat's going to make _him_ beg. It's a whole new world of fire and false danger and smashing Karkat into the ground at Troll Calibur, and the old world of worrying about the social implications of making out with dudes is rapidly receding. At least for now, while he can picture Karkat pacing in fury with a happy little scowl on his face. 

Let the games begin.


	5. In case this scene gets nasty

Karkat spends the next few days bundled up in a turtleneck, sulking. Every time Dave passes him in the common area, he makes sure to remark to anyone listening that it’s a great new look for him, that it suits him, and that he looks good in it. Dave almost loses his shit when Kanaya agrees and launches into an in-depth discussion about Karkat’s newfound interest in fashion. He manages to keep a straight face until Rose kindly offers to knit him some more turtlenecks in a variety of colors, and Karkat gives Dave a death-stare dripping with hate. Flash-stepping as far as he can into the corridor, Dave breaks down and laughs until he feels sick, basking in the satisfaction of having marked Karkat’s neck so badly it necessitates a change of wardrobe. 

For a day or so, Dave wonders if he’s gotten away with it. Karkat responds with calm sarcasm as Dave ridicules his terrible choice of movie, skewering every attempt that Dave makes to get him riled up. It would be a nice opportunity to chill out as bros again, were it not for the constant feeling that Karkat is plotting something Machiavellian. The more he twitches involuntarily or fidgets with his sleeves, the bigger Karkat’s smirk grows. Even a concerted effort to keep himself still isn’t enough when Karkat reaches past him to grab a snack, and plants an handful of claws uncomfortably high up on his thigh. Karkat squeezes, just once, before leaning back into his seat and casually munching on his chips. The feeling of claws gripping him inches from his crotch haunts Dave for the rest of the evening and into the shifting restlessness of another sleepless night. 

Even though it left him with prickly heat running down his spine, Dave assumes that a little claw-on-leg action is just the opening salvo of Karkat’s revenge strategy. The temptation to leave Karkat alone, to deny him the opportunity to for revenge, is definitely strong. Bulge-blocking Vantas’ plans has got to be in the Kismessitude handbook somewhere. Unfortunately for Dave, the instinct to leave Karkat alone is a tiny, unappealing glass of water when compared to the tall, frosty pitcher of AJ of finding out what he has planned. It sets alight a host of joyous, forbidden impulses in Dave, the _sorry, not sorry_ of sneaking into the twilit apartment kitchen to steal all of the good snacks while Bro was passed out on the futon. He shouldn’t be doing this and he doesn’t give a fuck. 

As usual, Dave barges in to Karkat’s room without knocking. Before this kismebusiness began, it was an absent-minded gesture, usually the result of being too eager to talk Karkat’s ear off about whatever bullshit was on his mind that day. Now, though, it’s a deliberate tactic designed to piss off the most secretive person on the meteor. Even before he admitted his feelings to himself, Dave had been secretly hoping to catch Vantas with his pants down. 

Instead of startling Karkat, as he intended, his first stride into the room sends him flying onto his back, the back of his head hitting the ground with a sharp smack. His ass head start to throb with pain, and a dim memory of Bro trying to catch him out comes to mind as he realizes what Karkat’s done. The little asshole has _buttered the goddamn floor_. He mentally kicks himself for not thinking of that, the meteor floors are uniform, smooth tiles and it obviously works like a charm. If they alchemised enough butter and found a long enough corridor, they could have their own indoor slip-n-slide. It would smell like shit after a few days, but they’d just need to find a corridor far enough away that no-one would find it. It’s almost enough to make him nostalgic for the times they used to just…hang out. 

Dave only gets a few seconds of daydreaming about skating on a rink of butter before Karkat jumps on him, planting his hands either side of Dave’s head. Predictably, he’s forgotten about the butter, and the pounce promptly transforms into a headbutt that makes Dave’s ears ring. 

“FUCK, Dude! I thought you weren’t supposed to kill your kismesis? Are you trying to test out exactly how immortal I am? I’m pretty sure I can’t un-break my nose with God-Tier magic.” 

Karkat’s face turns cherry-red with embarrassment as he rolls off Dave to let him sit up. Sure enough, there’s blood trickling from Dave’s left nostril. Feeling the bone gingerly, Dave concludes that it is not, in fact, broken. It is, however, going to leave a bruise he won’t be able to cover with a turtleneck. 

“Get me a tissue or something, could you?” He mumbles, holding his nose. “I might be wearing red, but that doesn’t mean I want to get blood all over my sweet duds.” 

Karkat growls something that Dave interprets as an apology, and it’s obvious that he’s wound painfully tight with frustration. Dave isn’t sure if it’s the shame of the failed attempt to get the upper hand or because he’s irritated at how fragile humans are. It’s true that his bones are more fragile than a troll's, but Dave honestly never considered that it might be an issue. He hadn’t anticipated Karkat actually trying to injure him. The pain in his head and the sudden realization that he knows fuck-all about what black romance actually involves is starting to make him feel nauseous. 

Sitting on Karkat’s floor with a wad of tissue jammed up his nose is hardly the place Dave would have chosen for a romantic feelings chat, whatever the color. Romance be damned, though, he needs to make sure that he’s not going to end up being accidentally torn to shreds by his best friend. The fact that he still thinks of Karkat as his best friend is also a cause for concern, or at least an indication that maybe he isn’t doing this spades thing right. 

“Could we bmaybe take a tibe out while I stob leaking bodily fluids? As in don’t try to jumb me for a bminute?” 

Karkat sighs, as if he’s been anticipating something like this. 

“Look, I get it. It was only a matter of time before I fucked everything up. It was going too fucking well.” 

Dave rolls his eyes while removing the tissue and wishing Karkat could retrieve an ounce of self-confidence from his meagre supply. 

“I still hate you, stop fucking worrying about it. I can see you doing it, you stupid sack of neuroses.” 

Karkat stifles a relieved smile at that, trying his hardest to look like an uncaring badass. He fails spectacularly. 

“Uh,” Dave continues, trying his best to phrase his concerns correctly, “Can we just, not do the grievous bodily harm thing? I know beating the shit out of each other is probably a traditional hate-date activity, but I’m really not into it. I know you didn’t mean to do this, by the way,” he adds, gesturing at his nose. “I'm guessing that was meant to be a smooth romantic overture.” 

Dave studies Karkat’s frown nervously, wondering if he’s made a mistake. Karkat is being unusually, uncomfortably quiet. Hesitantly, Dave makes a play to get back into his bad books. 

“You completely fucked it up, by the way. Like, the most epic fail I’ve ever seen. I could not be less turned on by taking a high-speed idiot to the forehead.” 

The spark is back in Karkat’s eye when Dave looks up from his bloody tissue, and he can tell Karkat is waiting for the signal that he’s not in pain anymore. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with you if I have to treat you like a delicate fucking flower, Strider? Alchemize some cluckbeast feathers so I can tickle you to death?” 

Tossing the tissue haphazardly toward the trashcan (he misses on purpose), Dave grins at him. 

“You’ll think of something, Vantas. Hating you for being stronger than me would be basic as fuck. Why would I have time for someone whose idea of romance consists of prodding at me with claws like an overgrown pussycat? I believe I told you to try being creative, since you love going on and on about how smart you are.” 

Dave gestures toward the slick area of Karkat’s floor, putting on his best condescending smirk. 

“My bro taught me that one when I was in the third grade. Minus-points for originality there, dude.” 

He knows he’s being a cheeky little shit, and a double hypocrite for failing to predict Karkat's trap and then being caught in it. It doesn’t matter, though, because any sign that Karkat’s confidence was wavering has vanished like morning mist in the heat of his glare. 

This time, Dave is more than happy to let Karkat pounce on him, his claws raking grooves into the floor so that he doesn’t slip over. Dave made sure to face away from the butter-zone, because his Karkat-predicting skills are getting pretty accurate these days, but he guesses Karkat doesn’t want to fuck it up again. 

When Karkat growls, long and deep and sexy as fuck, Dave could give him three appendages-up to reassure him that he hasn’t. His chest tightens with excitement as their mouths _finally_ crash together, teeth biting down hard enough to make his lip bleed. It hurts and it burns and it’s like kissing a weed-whacker, but at the same time Dave can’t help but give himself to Karkat completely. Unlike him, Karkat seems to want a little pain mixed in with the pleasure of lips mashing against one another, so he reaches up and pulls on a lock of hair behind his ear. The same one, he realizes, that Karkat was pulling on back when all of this started. The whine it elicits is electric, so Dave buries both hands into his hair and _pulls_. Karkat practically screams, his kissing technique flying out of the window as he rakes his claws down Dave’s sides. Gratifyingly, they only tear fabric, not skin. He has to admit, it feels amazing. 

Later, Dave drifts back to his room after an hour of the sloppiest interspecies makeouts in the history of Paradox Space. All in all, he thinks he probably won this round, having once again thoroughly ruined Karkat with a protracted session of neck-biting, until he takes a look in the mirror. The bloody, bruised nose, swollen lips and lines of hickeys up both sides of his neck tell a different story, and Dave has to concede that he _did_ spend quite a lot of the time pinned to the floor. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank The Complete Guide To Everything podcast for the buttered floor. 
> 
> Also, some people actually do this to each other. It works really well :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EEgM92_LGU  
> (very bad language on the video, guys. It's still funny though.)


	6. Night comes to Tallahassee

For a week or so, everything is great. Almost two years of living in close quarters with Karkat has taught Dave all of the best ways to piss him off, from showing up at his door wearing his red bucket as a hat, to putting all of Karkat’s movie-grubs into the wrong boxes. Each time Karkat leaves his room to take a piss, there’s something new waiting for him when he gets back. Dave’s biggest triumph comes when he roots out Karkat’s secret pail from underneath his bed and promptly capchalogues it. After things get hot and heavy, he leaves Karkat hanging and sets up camp in a storeroom a few doors down. The screams of fury and garbled swearwords that echo through the vents thirty minutes later are music to Dave’s ears. 

It was a little cruel, sure, but deep down Dave knows that Karkat craves the fire of rage Dave is deliberately stoking in his chest. It’s obvious from Karkat’s vague descriptions of his wigglerhood that any chance of him finding a kismesis evaporated when half of his team killed the other half, and a further quarter of the survivors decided to fuck off and leave him. Bitterness and anger constantly bubble under the surface of Karkat’s invulnerable-badass façade, and Dave wants to make sure that Karkat finally gets to work out some of that frustration with someone who can handle it. With someone who _wants_ to handle it. 

Even so, lying awake at night imagining Karkat’s claws raking deliciously down his back, Dave wonders exactly what he’s supposed to be feeling. He can admit to himself that most of his thought processes have been outsourced to his crotch as of late, and the Lower Offices of Strider Inc. are painfully clear on their growth targets. Dave wishes it could be as simple as enjoying the friendly rivalry while edging ever closer to some hands-on alien experimentation, but he can tell that he and Karkat aren’t exactly on the same wavelength. Karkat increasingly treats him with open contempt, throwing insults that are as personal as they are creative, and it’s getting a little...uncomfortable. Dave supposes that’s what he asked for, what he signed up for when he sent that first spade emoticon. The satisfaction of getting Karkat hot and bothered is still there, but some of his barbs have started to cut a little _too_ deep. 

Dave rolls uncomfortably onto his side, feeling his shoulder ache from when Karkat wrenched his hand away from his horn. Spending all day having his personality and his lips ripped to shreds is tiring. Deep in his stomach, Dave feels his guts cramping with shame at the memory of a childhood spent being insulted and attacked. For the hundredth time, Dave reminds himself that this is different, that Karkat isn’t really trying to hurt him. That the insults are just steps in a strange, alien dance that is actually bringing them closer together. Karkat's movies suggest that kismesis' eventually learn all of each other's weaknesses, and yet they still don't kill one another. It's a bond of trust that not even matesprits share, because nobody expects death at the hands of their matesprit. Even so, the sensation of going to bed covered in bruises and vibrating with anxiety is worryingly familiar, even if he isn’t used to being achingly turned on at the same time. 

Tonight is definitely the worst he’s felt for a while, boner or no. It’s fucking freezing in Dave’s room without his cape/blanket, and it’s embarrassing as hell that Karkat managed to tease out his reliance on it as a comfort object. Fifteen-year-olds aren’t supposed to need a goddamn blankie, for crying out loud, no matter how traumatic their childhood or how bloodstained their adolescence. He just _knows_ that Karkat has hidden it somewhere he’ll never find it, probably up in the juggalo-infested vents, and he shudders involuntarily at the thought of what Karkat will do with his power advantage. They’ve held off on using public humiliation as a weapon so far, but Dave can feel it lurking just below the horizon. Karkat is going to pull out the big guns, and he’s squarely in the firing line. 

\----------------- 

In general, Dave feels like he’s holding up pretty well despite the pressures of a gay alien hate-romance, until he feels Rose put her hand on his shoulder as he dispenses his morning coffee. She managed to catch him lost in thought, and Dave jumps roughly two feet into the air. Coffee arcs gracefully out onto the floor, and Dave winces as he hears his favorite mug shatter. Rose clears her throat, as if belatedly alerting him to her presence. Her raised eyebrow doesn’t do much to lift his mood, and Dave can sense awkward questions brewing in her brain. 

He busies himself picking up shards of porcelain, rather than meeting her eyes. The pieces are sharp, but they’re nowhere near as sharp as his sister. 

“Feeling a little jumpy, Dave?” She asks, redundantly, snark dripping from her words like poisoned honey. 

“Apparently so,” He answers, mopping at the spilled coffee while daring her to make something of it. 

“Well…I hope you’re doing OK.” She replies, and Dave is surprised to hear genuine concern in her voice. “You always seem to be looking over your shoulder as of late, and you can’t possibly expect me to believe you’ve been wearing your hood up for aesthetic reasons.” 

Dave snorts dismissively, brushing her off with his usual feigned detachment. 

“Is everything alright between you and Karkat?” She asks, innocent to a fault. 

It’s fooling no-one. Dave knows she’s seen his damaged lips and bruised nose. He could hardly start wearing a goddamn ski-mask around the meteor, after all. 

“Yes, thank you for asking. Hunky fucking dory.” 

Dave strains to keep his voice level, to keep his cool in the face of Rose’s questioning expression. She frowns, but doesn’t probe any further. Dave isn’t surprised, she probably knows everything already. She could already read him like a book before she ever saw his face. 

“OK, then, if you’re sure.” She doesn’t sound convinced. The silence that follows is the cherry on the double-awkward-sundae of another delightful sibling interaction. 

“I’ll see you later, Dave,” she sighs, touching him on the shoulder again, “please come and find me if you’d like to talk. I’d hate to think you were keeping things bottled up again.” 

Rose smiles over her shoulder as she waltzes out toward Kanaya’s room. Dave returns it, glad that she can’t see his eyes. Her flush romance with Kanaya seems so easy in comparison with his situation. They just hang out and knit while reading books to each other all day, and then presumably make out a little. And sure, that sounds like a total snoozefest to Dave, but they seem to enjoy it, if the looks that pass between them when one drags the other out of the common room are any indication. 

Sighing, he slams down the recently-installed mental shutters that keep “Rose” and “Sex” separate in his brain. It’s a bad idea to think about what your sister is doing with her hot alien girlfriend, even if you only found out she was your sister two years ago and spent the preceding years engaging in endless ironic flirt-campaigns with her. The fact that they didn't grow up together still probably doesn’t make it OK to picture Kanaya sticking her tongue lovingly down Rose's throat. 

Shuddering with revulsion at himself, Dave takes a flying leap out of _that_ train of thought, landing heavily on the grassy bank of thinking hard about nice, non-sexual apple juice. The sick, hot feeling in his gut is yet another reminder of how _delightfully_ twisted his existence is. 

Grabbing another coffee in an inferior mug, Dave heads back to his room to do some serious moping. His room is going to be so full of black clouds of angst, no-one will be able to see a goddamn thing. He wonders idly if it’s possible to go grimdark from feeling frustrated about your love-life. Probably not, but it doesn’t hurt to try. Grimdark Dave would probably make a better kismesis anyway. His sulk is interrupted when he feels vibrations against his leg. 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]

CG: HEY, IDIOT.  
CG: YOUR SISTER TELLS ME YOU’RE UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING.  
CG: LET ME GUESS, YOU MISS YOUR PRECIOUS COMFORT-CAPE?  
CG: I FORGOT TO ASK, DOES IT HAVE A NAME? DO YOU WHISPER SWEET NOTHINGS TO IT WHEN YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES AT NIGHT?  
TG: dude whatever im fine  
TG: rose doesnt know shit about dick  
TG: literally in her case because space lesbians  
CG: GIVEN HOW FLUSHED SHE IS FOR KANAYA, THERE’S AN APPROXIMATELY 100% CHANCE THAT YOU’RE TALKING OUT OF YOUR ASS.   
CG: ALTHOUGH, TO BE FAIR, THAT’S THE CASE WHATEVER YOU HAPPEN TO BE SAYING.  
TG: im not even gonna touch that  
TG: good to know you enjoy kissing my ass btw  
TG: did you have a particular reason to bug me or is it just for kicks  
TG: kinda not in the mood to back and forth with you about the finer points of how im a fuckass who smells like a load gaper right now  
CG: I JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW.  
CG: THERE’S A *CHANCE* THAT I MIGHT BE WILLING TO CONSIDER LETTING YOU HAVE YOUR CAPE BACK.  
CG: I THINK YOU’VE SUFFERED LONG ENOUGH WITHOUT IT.   
CG: TO CLARIFY, THE SUFFERING WILL END PRECISELY WHEN I DETERMINE THE TIME IS RIGHT.   
CG: A.K.A. AFTER YOU’VE DONE A BUNCH OF POINTLESS DEGRADING BULLSHIT TO SATISFY MY EVERY WHIM.  
TG: ugh dude  
TG: you sound like you should be twiddling a fucking moustache and going ‘mwahahaha’ right now  
TG: planning to tie me to the railroad tracks or something?  
CG: IF IT’LL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER:  
CG: MWAHAHAHAHA!!!  
TG: ok lmao  
TG: that did actually make me feel better  
TG: fine ill indulge you  
TG: im limiting you to three semi-degrading things max vantas  
TG: use them wisely  
CG: IT’S REALLY NOT UP TO YOU, BUT IT IS SORT OF ADORABLE THAT YOU THINK YOU CAN IMPOSE LIMITS ON ME.  
CG: NOT SMART, MIND YOU.   
CG: HE SAID, COMPLETELY UNSURPRISED AT YOUR LACK OF INTELLIGENCE.  
CG: MY CLAWS ARE AWFULLY SHARP, AND CAPEY HERE IS *AWFULLY* SOFT AND DELICATE.   
TG: dude whatever theres no way youd harm a defenseless hostage  
TG: especially one ive seen you curl up under like a newborn kitten  
TG: you love that thing more than i do  
CG: DON'T TEMPT ME.   
TG: you want me to come over?  
CG: YES, PUPPET. COME OVER AND DANCE FOR ME.  
TG: gross  
TG: on my way  


carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering  turntechGodhead [TG] 

As he trudges toward Karkat’s room, Dave can’t help but wonder what the fuck he’s getting himself into.


	7. I don't mean it when I tell you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have now reached cruising angst, at altitude "why are you doing this to me".  
> Please feel free to undo your seatbelts and kick me in the stomach for being a horrible human being.

“There is no fucking way, Karkat.” Dave stands with his arms folded and legs planted firmly, refusing to accept the bag being thrust into his face.”It’s not going to happen.” 

“If you want your fucking cape back, you will take this shit and get the fuck on with it.” Karkat growls, his voice dark with irritation and malice. 

“Dude, no. I’m not washing your goddamn sheets. It’s fucking gross.” 

Karkat snarls at him, baring his teeth worryingly close to Dave’s throat. 

“It’s your fucking fault they’re like this, asshole. So you can shove your petty little concerns about how gross it is up your delicate wastechute and clean up the mess you made.” 

It should be threatening, Karkat _wants_ it to be threatening, but Dave can’t get the memory of Karkat’s ungodly litany of swearwords out of his brain. It’s hard to find someone intimidating when you can picture them screaming with rage while covered in their own jizz. Even though it’s hard, Dave covers a laugh with his go-to blank expression. Laughing in Karkat’s face right now would probably earn him a fist-full of claws somewhere sensitive, despite his promise to keep physical violence to a minimum. Karkat relaxes a little when he takes the bag, wordlessly stowing it away in his sylladex. He can tell that Karkat is trying to make things easy for him, insofar as the process of trying to dominate one another without destroying them can be easy. Yeah, it’s disgusting and degrading to do Karkat’s post-pail laundry, but he didn’t have to put it into a bag. He could have thrown the whole lot into Dave’s face. 

Dave takes a deep fake bow and starts to head for the door, off to perform the herculean task of removing troll secretions from the sheets while trying not to look at them, when Karkat grabs hold of his shirt collar. 

“I don’t believe I said you could leave, Strider.” He purrs. 

This time he _does_ sound menacing, his voice dancing with ‘I know something you don’t know’ satisfaction. Dave swallows his apprehension, but it’s obvious that Karkat can tell. It’s written in the tense line of his jaw, in the way he squares his shoulders. Dave lost the ability to hide his tension from Karkat when he became a target, a rival, something to be studied and taken apart. 

“Come back here.” Karkat’s voice is velvet-soft, almost seductive. Dave’s feet move without his permission, carrying him until he’s almost nose-to-forehead with his tiny tormentor. 

“Much better. Your species would have made excellent slaves, if our empire had been in the same universe as your planet. You're so easy to control.” 

Dave rolls his eyes at the ‘feeble humans’ shtick, but Karkat captures his attention easily when he wraps the claws of one hand gently around Dave’s neck. He grins evilly, and looking up at Dave with narrowed eyes. 

“I have one more order for you, fuckhead.” The final word is punctuated with a jab to the centre of Dave’s chest. 

“I want you,” he pauses, licking his lower lip, “to strip.” 

Karkat’s lips smack as he pronounces the ‘p’, and Dave feels his knees go weak with fear and arousal. His heart is attempting to jackhammer its way out of his chest, although he’s surprised it has anything to pump right now. Karkat _has_ to feel it where his fingers are pressed against Dave’s pulse-point. 

“Sure thing, babe.” Dave replies. 

His mind screams _what the fuck are you doing_ , but the rest of him overrules it. This is what everything has been building toward, after all, and having Karkat order him around is surprisingly hot. _That’s a new one for the kink list_ , he notes, _which, admittedly, has only had the words ‘whatever I can get’ on it up until now._

It’s not the reaction Karkat was expecting, judging from his widened eyes, and Dave wonders briefly if he should have put up more of a fight. The blush creeping across Karkat’s face is a good sign, though, and Dave counts it as a minor victory. He made Karkat drop his pretense of hardassery, and he’s decidedly cute when he’s flustered like this. ‘Cute’ and ‘Karkat’ don’t usually belong together, but right now the tips of his ears are turning red, and that’s…that’s fucking adorable. 

“You want to give me a hand?” Dave offers, lifting the hem of his shirt slightly. 

Two can play at the seduction game. In fact, Dave is pretty sure it’s exclusively designed for two players and up. Whether he has the guts to pass ‘go’ and collect two hundred dollars is another matter entirely. 

Karkat clears his throat and tears his eyes away from Dave’s stomach. He snaps himself back into dominant mode, glaring at Dave and silently daring him to mention the lapse in control. 

“Shut the fuck up, nookstain. You don’t get to ask for help, no matter how incompetent you are at removing your own clothes. Get the fuck on with it.” 

Dave grins, ignoring Karkat’s scowl. He pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, resisting the temptation to twirl it over his head. He does throw it squarely into Karkat’s face, however. 

Dave stands up straight, suddenly incredibly self-conscious, and forces himself not to cross his arms over his chest. He knows it’ll ruin the mood if he starts freaking out, but Karkat is looking at him as if he’s a delicious steak. Dave’s eyes are drawn involuntarily to Karkat’s teeth and claws, and the part of his brain that evolved from something small and squeaky tells him he needs to _run_. He stands his ground. It’s Karkat, after all, and Karkat won’t hurt him. 

“You seem to be stuck, Strider,” Karkat drawls, “have you forgotten how to get out of your pants?” 

“Yup. I’ll be trapped in them forever.” Dave has no intention of dropping his pants while Karkat is staring at him like that. Karkat snorts and starts to walk a slow circle around Dave. He doesn’t seem to want to push for more, and Dave is grateful for that. He relaxes slightly until he feels Karkat poking one of his ribs where it stands proud of his skin. 

"I knew you were skinny, but don’t you fucking eat? From what I know about human anatomy, they aren’t meant to have exoskeletons.” 

The tone is mocking, but there’s an unfamiliar edge to the words. He stops himself from curling in on himself as Karkat continues. 

“And shit, Strider, how did you get all of these scars?” Dave feels a claw tracing a particularly long one on his right shoulder. “I mean, you must have been pretty fucking incompetent to let your session's pitiful excuses for imps do this much damage.” 

If Karkat notices the way Dave shifts uncomfortably, he doesn’t say anything. 

“It almost makes me wish I’d been watching you rather than Jade, since you apparently spent the entire time bleeding all over the fucking place. Is it normal for humans to be so weak? So easy to injure?” 

Deep down, Dave knows Karkat is just working with what he’s got in front of him, that this is supposed to be a fucked-up hate-romance so he shouldn’t expect kindness and compliments. On the surface, though, he doesn’t give a fuck. Listening to Karkat dissecting his flaws is too painful. 

“Fuck you, Karkat!” He practically explodes with fury, more out of control than he’s ever been in front of anyone besides Bro. “Even if those _were_ from the fucking game, you don’t get to judge me like an arrogant piece of shit! I am so fucking _out of here_ , I’m surprised you aren’t choking on my dust.” 

He shrugs his shirt on quickly, and heads for the door. The only thing that stops him is the look on Karkat’s face. 

“Dave…don’t you dare fucking leave.” he mutters, his mouth turned down at the edges. 

He can’t. Of course he can’t, not when Karkat is looking at him like that. Instead, he fists both hands in his hair and pulls, letting his frustration out in an exasperated groan. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuck!!!” His moan sends echoes off the metal walls of the room. 

When they've died away, Dave takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself. 

“Look, Karkat, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, OK? I just…that…all of that personal shit and picking at me like that, I can’t fucking cope with it.” 

The energy drains out of him as he speaks, and he slumps down onto the floor, not caring if Karkat follows him or not. 

“Dave, for the sake of jegus-fucking-christ, what the fuck am I supposed to do about that? This isn’t how kismessitude is supposed to work, you’re meant to try and fucking _destroy_ me for saying shit like that, not turn into a feeble little puddle of shame on the floor.” 

His face is screwed up with discomfort and embarrassment, and Dave can practically see the words ‘Don’t you hate me anymore?’ forming in Karkat’s brain. 

It’s the last straw, and Dave has had enough for today. Karkat’s right, he isn’t doing this properly. On the other hand, his nerves are frayed to pieces and Karkat’s the one holding the knife. 

He does the only thing he can think of and absconds, flash-stepping all the way back to his room.


	8. That I don't love you anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who hit post without preview by accident. it is me.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

CG: I HOPE YOU KNOW YOU'RE BEING THE BIGGEST HYPOCRITE IN PARADOX SPACE, STRIDER.  
CG: YOU FUCKING STARTED THIS BECAUSE I WAS AVOIDING YOU AND NOW YOU'RE HIDING IN YOUR RESPITEBLOCK LIKE THE WEAK, STUPID PIECE OF CULLBAIT YOU ARE.  
CG: AND LET ME FUCKING REMIND YOU THAT YOU *DID* START THIS.  
CG: I WASN'T THE ONE WHO DECIDED TO START THROWING SPADES AROUND LIKE CANDY.  
CG: IF YOU'RE *THIS* READY TO THROW IN THE TOWEL THEN MAYBE YOU REALLY *DON'T* UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS WHEN YOU SAY YOU HATE SOMEONE.  
CG: IT'S SUPPOSED TO MEAN THAT WE'RE FUCKING DESTINED TO TEAR EACH OTHER APART, YOU STUPID, ALIEN GLOBESACK.  
CG: IT'S SUPPOSED TO MEAN MORE THAN JUST A FEW ANGRY MAKEOUTS, AND I DON'T KNOW WHY THE FUCK I EVER THOUGHT IT POSSIBLY *COULD* MEAN MORE TO YOU.  
CG: I DON'T  
CG: I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN DO THIS WITH YOU EITHER.  
CG: IT DIDN'T FEEL RIGHT WATCHING YOU SHRIVEL UP LIKE A GRUB THAT'D BEEN LEFT OUT IN THE SUN.  
CG: IT WASN'T ATTRACTIVE.  
CG: SHIT  
CG: THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT.  
CG: I JUST MEAN, IT DIDN'T MAKE ME HATE YOU.  
CG: FUCK MY LIFE, THIS IS SO HORRIBLE.  
CG: NO, ACTUALLY  
CG: NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT  
CG: FUCK *YOU*  
CG: YOU MANAGED TO RUIN THE ONE GOOD THING I HAD IN MY SHITSHOW OF AN EXISTENCE, STRIDER. I HOPE YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT.  
CG: COME AND FIND ME WHEN YOU'RE READY TO PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR WASTECHUTE.  
CG: YOU STARTED THIS, YOU CAN FUCKING END IT.  
CG: I’M NOT DOING IT FOR YOU.  


carcinoGeneticist [CG]  ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

Dave throws his phone onto the end of the bed and curls into a ball, his head in his hands. He knows he’s being a huge asshole, hiding from Karkat in his room just so that he doesn’t have to face the music. It’s cowardly, it’s immature, but he’s a teenager who’s never had anything close to a real relationship before, and he has no idea what to do. 

The idea of breaking up with Karkat is…it’s just too much. There isn’t a single cell in his body that wants to push Karkat away, but he _can’t_ stay in a relationship where all he has to look forward to are increasing levels of pain. Hiding is the easy thing to do. Talking it out with Karkat is the right thing to do. Dave knows he’s only making things worse, but his childhood taught him that hiding was the safe thing to do, and survival habits are hard to break. Pulling on his headphones, Dave turns up his music to the highest volume he can stand, and loses himself in the beat. 

The music hides the frantic buzzing of his phone, and Dave remains blissfully unaware of the avalanche of messages pouring in until he reaches the end of his mix of self-indulgent angsty raps. Dave hadn’t imagined his day could get worse, but Karkat evidently had other plans. 

arachnidsGrip [AG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

AG: Strider, I swear to god, I am going to evicer8 your stupid excuse for a kismesis!!!!!!!!  
AG: Scratch that, 8oth of you idiots are going to 8leed candy red for me 8efore the end of the day if you don’t sort him out!  
AG: This is 8OTH of your faults, and I’ve had enough of watching you piss8a8ies pitchflirt like 5-sweep-olds.  
AG: FUCKING AMATEURS!!!!!!!!  


arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Dave, I’d anticipate you’ve had a rather angry stream of messages from Vriska.  
TT: Terezi is attempting to calm her rampaging mammaries, but it’s not going well.  
TT: At the risk of echoing the words of a homicidal maniac, you need to get Karkat to fix the coffee machine.  
TT: I dread to think what will happen if Serket is forced to go caffeine free in the long term. I doubt it will be pretty for either of you.  
TT: As a side note, Kanaya is offering her services as an auspistice.  
TT: I would advise you to take her up on it before either you or Karkat get hurt.   


Dave rubs his eyes, clearing the irritating haze that settles over them when he closes his eyes for too long. Losing himself in the music was nice while it lasted. 

TG: rose what the hell  
TG: we dont need an auspistice   
TG: tell kan to put her chainsaw back in her pants  
TT: Ah, so you are still alive.   
TT: If it weren’t for the fact that sabotaging the coffee machine is clearly a move designed to infuriate you, I’d be considerably more concerned about your safety.  
TT: As it is, what the hell did you do to provoke Karkat into doing something so stupid?  
TT: It can’t possibly have been worth causing Vriska to have a rage aneurism.  
TG: what   
TG: i didnt do anything  
TG: nothing is the literal definition of what ive been doing  
TT: Don’t try and play the innocent, Dave. I know you did something.  
TG: fine   
TG: i might have ignored him a little  
TG: for a few days  
TT: Of course you did. Why didn’t I guess that?  
TT: Why, exactly, have you been ignoring him?  
TG: things got a bit   
TG: out of hand  
TG: and i did just sorta split without explaining  
TG: but i didnt bonk him over the head hard enough to make him think that destroying the coffee pod would be a good plan  
TG: thats pure vantas genius right there  
TG: aka the most stupid idea you could possibly imagine  
TT: Regardless of who actually broke the machine, you are both responsible.  
TT: Fix it quickly, because I do not want to watch my girlfriend chop Vriska in half in order to protect Karkat.  
TT: This meteor is bad enough with caffeine to keep it running smoothly.  
TT: Without it, we might as well concede that the timeline is doomed.  
TG: ok chill rose  
TG: im on it i guess  
TT: Thank you.  


tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

Screaming inside, Dave opens a chat with Karkat. 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

TG: hey   
TG: i see youve lost the will to live   
TG: because serket is going to kill you if she doesnt get some caffeine soon  
CG: WHAT EXACTLY DO I HAVE TO LIVE FOR, ASSHOLE?  
TG: ok im gonna head off your big grey waterfall of melodrama  
TG: im sorry   
TG: i shouldnt have ignored you ok  
TG: it was shitty of me  
CG: YES. IT WAS.  
CG: AND?  
TG: and obviously we need to talk about stuff  
TG: i dont know what im doing here ok   
TG: i know i said that already  
CG: WELL, THAT MAKES TWO OF US. YOU’RE JUST AS FUCKING ALIEN TO ME AS I AM TO YOU, MORON.  
TG: i know  
TG: i dont want to stop though  
TG: whatever this is  
TG: i know i signed up to get insulted and i honestly didnt give a shit about that  
TG: it was great until the other day   
TG: all of that just hurt more than i expected   
CG: I KNOW. I COULD TELL.  
CG: IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT LIKE THAT, IF YOU WERE A TROLL YOU’D BE STRONG ENOUGH TO TAKE IT.   
TG: so you wish i was a troll then  
TG: sorry youre forced to fucking slum it with an alien  
CG: I’M NOT SAYING THAT, SHITHEAD. IT WOULD JUST BE FUCKING SIMPLER.  
TG: fine   
TG: i guess it would be  
TG: you told me to end it  
TG: is that what you want?  
CG: NO.  
CG: I JUST CAN’T SEE HOW TO ACTUALLY MAKE IT WORK. YOU’RE TOO FUCKING SOFT, AND I’M TOO SHARP. ONE OF US IS ALWAYS GOING TO GET HURT.  
TG: dude way to oversimplify  
TG: theres gotta be a middle ground somewhere  
TG: im sure i can figure it out  
TG: after all  
TG: im a smart guy remember  
CG: IMBECILE. I FUCKING HATE YOU, STRIDER.  
CG: <3<  
TG: there it is  
TG: hate you too princess  
TG: <3<  
TG: or whatever the human equivalent is of wanting to piss you off enough that you shut me up with your mouth  
TG: youre getting pretty good at that  
CG: IT WAS THAT OR TEAR YOUR VOCAL CORDS OUT WITH MY TEETH.  
TG: slow down romeo  
TG: we gotta fix the coffee maker or vriska is gonna personally tear us both limb from limb  
TG: you really should have thought that shit through dude  
TG: i mean it got my attention so bravo for that  
TG: but my lifespan and attention span are gonna end up the same if we dont sort it out  
CG: FINE.  
CG: MEET ME IN THE COMMON ROOM. YOU'RE GOING TO HELP ME FIGURE OUT WHAT THE FUCK I DID TO IT.  
CG: I WAS IN A STATE OF TRANSCENDENTAL RAGE AT THE TIME. THE WHOLE THING IS SORT OF A BLUR.  
TG: fan fucking tastic  


turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] 


	9. What will I do when I don't have you

Dave doesn't even try to resurrect his cool as he slouches toward the common room. He's pissed off in every way possible, both with Karkat and himself, and he'll be damned if he's going hide it in order to spare Karkat’s feelings. He's not sure if that's even how this kismesis thing works, if he's meant to try _not_ to hurt Karkat, or if he should treat him like something he found on the bottom of his shoe. Troll romance can eat a dick, as far as Dave's concerned. It's complicated and terrifying and painful, and if it wasn't with Karkat there's no way it would be worth it. 

Dave rolls that thought around in his mind as he rounds the final corner, the glow from the common room illuminating the distant end of the corridor. _The light at the end of the tunnel_ , Dave muses, _is, in my case, universally guaranteed to be a fucking train._ Slowing down, he realizes that what happens next is _important_ , and there's a serious possibility of fucking everything up. The padlocked, triple-bolted safe in his subconscious labelled 'feelings' is full to bursting, and opening it is going to be messy. 

Predictably, Karkat is hunched over on the floor, mopping up spilled coffee and cursing under his breath. Dave groans involuntarily at the sight of the machine. It's a mess of leaking pipes and trailing wires. Putting it back together is going to be a nightmare. Karkat flinches at the sound, obviously unaware that Dave was practically standing next to him. _Great start, fuckwad_ , Dave chides himself, _he's always so reasonable when he's on edge._

"Sup dude." 

Dave manages to keep his voice free of irritation. It's a goddamn miracle as far as he's concerned. 

"What's 'sup' is that your hatchmate just gave me the most mortifying earbashing of my life. Ask me about anything, Strider, because I've been thoroughly schoolfed. I've finally found someone who's more of an expert on what a rancid shitnugget I am than me." 

Dave laughs, feeling his anger drain away, because it's damn good to hear a Vantas rant after three days of relative peace and quiet. 

"Don't even worry about it, man. She's just pissed because she's addicted to terrible coffee and you cut off her supply. We could probably swing it as an intervention, if we both sit her down and act condecending enough." 

Karkat doesn't respond, but his shoulders loosen a little. If he's truly feeling sorry for himself, his voice doesn't betray it. 

"Are you going to help me, or are you going to stand around like a gormless lawn-ring ornament?" 

The acid in Karkat’s words is noticeably absent. He sounds more like he did back when they spent all day just hanging out, and Dave isn't sure how he feels about that. It's probably not good news for their romantic relationship, but at the same time, it's nice to be able to relax a little. The unfamiliarity of the moment highlights how much he's missed their old, easy friendship. 

Reaching behind the coffee machine, Dave examines its tangled entrails. Thankfully, nothing appears to be _too_ damaged, but each pipe and wire has been pulled out of fuck-knows-what socket, and there's no way to figure it out save plugging things in at random. 

Sighing heavily, Dave starts plugging things in at random. Aside from causing a further cascade of hot water from one of the miscellaneous tubes just when Karkat had finished mopping up, the strategy is pretty successful. Or, at least, it doesn't seem to be making things worse. 

Dave's attempt to initiate a serious feelings-talk is decidedly less successful. He opens his mouth to start speaking dozens of times, but nothing comes out. The uncomfortable silence deepens with each passing second, and Dave is increasingly sure that he's missed his moment. Eventually, the weight of unsaid words is suffocating. When a hopeful press of the machine's button produces a thick, burnt smelling sludge, Dave decides he's had enough. All of this is bullshit, and it will not stand. 

"Karkat, we need to talk about stuff because if we don't I am gonna collapse from the strain of trying to read your mind. Telepathy is tiring as fuck, and all I'm getting from you is a headache. That might mean it's working, knowing you, but it sure as hell isn't helping." 

It's hard to tell whether Karkat is amused or annoyed by Dave's attempt to lighten the mood. Nonetheless, It's a relief when he accepts the verbal olive branch. 

"What did you want to talk about, Strider? How much of an idiot I am, or how much of an asshole you are?" 

There's an almost-smile on Karkat’s face, and Dave returns it with interest. This is already going better than he'd hoped. 

"I think we've already covered those points in unnecessary detail, not that I don't love calling you out for doing stupid shit." 

Dave can't resist gesturing at the stricken coffee machine. Karkat rolls his eyes. 

"This is just really, I dunno, difficult, I guess. I mean, I just want you to be happy or whatever, but is that even how the spade quadrant works? Am I supposed to try and make you miserable instead?" 

Dave swallows, examining a patch of floor. He can't quite bring himself to look at Karkat. As long as he doesn't look, it can't be a breakup. 

"The thing is, sure, I like all the stuff we've been doing, it's pretty fucking great. And I like you, obviously. I don't want to stop...I just can't deal with, like, the personal humiliation. When it gets like that, it's not fun anymore. It's too...painful. I'm sorry." 

Waiting for Karkat to respond is agonizing. Dave counts the seconds without meaning to. _21, 22, 23_. 

"Dave, I know you're trying. I...appreciate it, I really do." 

His voice is quiet, almost soothing. When Dave looks up, Karkat is staring at him with an odd, soft look in his eyes. 

"It's not your fault that your species doesn't have black romance, and it should hardly come as a surprise that it's fucking you up inside. You shouldn't be trying to indulge me like this, it's just going to end up hurting you." 

Dave feels his heart start thudding at the walls of his ribcage, hears the blood pounding in his ears. 

"But I want to, Karkat. I want whatever this is. You don't need to worry about me, I can take it...I won't freak out next time. Scout's honor, man." 

Neither of them are convinced. Dave knows he's lying, floundering in a sea of emotion he has no way of navigating. He can feel his hands shaking, his body vibrating with the effort of keeping it contained. Karkat gets to his feet, awkwardly brushing at the coffee stains on his knees, and gingerly wraps his arms around Dave. It's the sweetest, softest, _gayest_ experience of his life, and Dave isn't sure whether to laugh or cry. In the end, he does a little of both.

"Karkat..." it comes out as a sob, rather than a word. Words don't get any easier when he notices that Karkat has started rubbing his back. 

"Please...don't break up with me." Dave's voice is all over the place, but the words are clear enough. He nearly collapses from the effort of forcing them out.

Karkat looks up, moving his hand to rest lighlty against Dave's jawline. Dave shudders as Karkat swipes away a tear with his thumb. He's not crying. Striders don't cry. 

"I have to, Dave. I'm pretty sure I don't hate you anymore." 

The words hurt like a punch in the gut, and Dave's brain starts to fill with a thousand pleas to get Karkat to change his mind. It isn't _fair_ , he tried so _hard_. The hurt falls away when Karkat stands on tiptoes and kisses him, full and passionate and caring. Instead, his mind goes blissfully, gloriously blank. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any typos, I wrote this on my phone. Please point them out if you see any!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your Kudos and comments, it's been a difficult week and they've helped a lot :)


	10. To hold onto in the dark

The kiss is like nothing they've ever shared before; it isn't the vicious, intoxicating mashing of mouths of a caliginous kiss, nor is it the fumbling, hesitant softness of Karkat’s first attempt. In the endless battle for dominance, kissing Karkat was like kissing a glowing coal; hot and dangerous and powerful. It was hate and lust combined into something almost too much for Dave to handle, although he'd give up anything to try. It was worth getting burned just to stay close to the fire. 

Compared with that heat, this kiss is like sinking into a warm, luxurious bath. It's less exciting, sure, but he can feel his muscles unwinding, his body giving itself to the feeling as Karkat darts his tongue gently into Dave's mouth. After all of the drama and angst, it's exactly what he needs; a simple gesture of affection designed to make him feel good, wanted, needed. 

It takes supreme willpower for Dave to pull himself away, but eventually, he has to breathe. He also needs to know what the hell is going on, because Karkat could write the goddamn guidebook on mixed signals. 

"That's the weirdest breakup move I've ever heard of, Karkat. Are those burning pants I smell? 'Cause seems to me like you're a big fat liar." 

Karkat smiles up at Dave, filling his head with a pleasant haze. _That smile should be illegal,_ Dave thinks, _because there is absolutely no way I could ever stay mad at it._

"I may have exaggerated a little about breaking up. I just meant that you've been surprisingly considerate for such an irredeemable douchebag. I...didn't realize you could be like that if you actually _tried_ at something." 

Karkat’s arms tighten reassuringly, and Dave feels safe for the first time in forever. 

"I can't hate you when you're being so fucking sweet." 

Happiness fills Dave from head to toe, but this is all a little...unexpected, to say the least. This morning, Karkat was practically apoplectic. Now, he's nuzzling his face into Dave's shoulder. Dave sighs contentedly. Fucking aliens. 

"So are we in the red quadrant, now? The one where everyone acts like they've dropped a bunch of E on Valentine's Day? Do I need to start practicing some serenades?" 

Karkat’s movies were more explicit about the flush quadrant than the black, since Dave supposes most blackrom activities aren't exactly PG-13. From what he could tell, it seems to involve a lot of overblown romantic gestures and staring at each other in the moonlight, like all of the cheesiest elements of human romance rolled into one. Dave isn't sure how much of that accurate, and how much is just Karkat’s taste in movies. 

Inevitably, the king of quadrants is less than impressed by the question. 

"Wow. Way to suck all of the fucking romance out of the moment, Strider. How is it that you're even worse at this than black romance? At the very least, you should be able to _understand_ flushed feelings. I can fuck off if you're going to be a douche about it." 

Dave shrugs, trying not to wince as Karkat lets go of him. It's cold without him. 

"No, dude, don't. That's not what I meant. A few hours ago you were so ticked with me that you murdered an innocent coffee machine, and now you're being all...nice, and caring and shit...It's just confusing, that's all. I'm trying to understand, here. I didn't mean I don't want to." 

Dave swallows the lump in his throat, tells his brain to shut the fuck up about how stupid he sounds. Karkat’s frown is worrying, but he hasn't stormed out yet. Dave still has a chance not to screw things up. 

"Look, I know all of this swerving all over the place is probably totally normal if you're a troll, but if you were a human I'd be worried you'd gone completely insane. Like, completely batshit, stark raving nutballs. I guess humans do have relationships like that, but how the fuck would I know?" 

Dave takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts before he veers off topic. 

"Look, I'm a goddamn teenager, Karkat. You're kind of...it...for me on the romance front. I've never done this before, but it's amazing. I 'human' like you, a whole fucking lot, even if I dunno what quadrant that fits into. Why does all of this have to be so fucking complicated?" 

This is hard, but Dave can tell he's making progress. 

"Am I allowed to ask why you changed your mind? I mean, when did you even start thinking of me...like that?" 

The look Karkat gives him is almost painful. 

"Do you really have to ask that? I kissed you first, didn't I?" 

Dave curses at his own stupidity. How could he have forgotten? 

"Shit, I'm sorry. Yeah, I know. I meant...when did you switch from black to red?" 

Karkat's face contorts with embarrassment; it's obviously not a question he wants to answer. He does, though, choosing his words carefully. Dave is more than a little proud of him. 

"Knowing you, you won't fucking like it. If you really have to know, it was when I saw your scars." 

Dave's stomach clenches. Karkat _feels sorry for him_ and he _hates it_. Karkat looks at him, all pity and affection, and he wants to die of shame. 

"Stop that, Strider. Stop fucking frowning at me. I don't want to fix your shit, I'm not pale for you." 

Dave raises a sceptical eyebrow. 

"Fuck you. Maybe a little pale. Mostly, though, I just realized we had more in common than I thought. Growing up in a shitty environment, I mean. I can relate to feeling like the moment you relax is the moment you kiss your wastechute goodbye." 

That actually...feels good. Karkat is so...together....most of the time, even when he's yelling at the top of his lungs, that Dave forgets he grew up with a sword hanging over his head. Figuratively, of course. Dave had the pleasure of a literal sword all to himself. Smiling, Dave slips his arms around Karkat’s waist and kisses the top of his head. There needs to be more hugging, it's strange how a few days apart makes him never want to let go again. Karkat leans against him, and everything is warm and right. 

"OK, man, I believe you. You can go ahead and keep kissing me like that. I mean, literally any time you want. If I ever try and stop you, put a sickle in my chest because that is not Dave Strider." 

Dave feels the vibrations of Karkat laughing silently. He decides not to mention the warm, wet patch forming under Karkat's face. 

"Uh...is it still OK if I fuck with you occasionally?" 

Karkat really laughs this time, a sound like two pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together. Dave turns red as he hears his own words. 

"You know what I mean, assface. Are we calling off the prank war or not?" Dave bites his lip, reliving the memory of Karkat moaning at his touch. "Are we still doing the whole 'pissing each other off until it gets hot as fuck' thing? Because I think I'll miss it, unless it's weird for you. If it messes with your head then we can just do whatever." 

Dave takes a lungful of Karkat, the alien scent of him tickling the back of his throat. Even though he's from a different universe, he smells like home. 

"Whatever makes you happy." He adds. It's so true; he's such a sap. Dave couldn't give a fuck.

"No, you stupid fucker," Karkat hisses, exasperated. "Not 'whatever makes me happy'. If I do shit that makes _you_ unhappy, you have to say something. I can handle it if you want to try vacillating, Dave. It's practically a dream come true. Not if it hurts you, though, you nookchafing moron. You're practically your own kismesis, you're so eager to throw yourself into the trash." 

That's new information, Dave had no idea that Alternian Disney Princesses pined in their towers for a prince of spades _and_ hearts. He really should have paid more attention to all of those romcoms. 

"We'll work something out. I'll say if I'm uncomfortable, but I probably won't be. It's reassuring, knowing you don't... _hate me_ hate me. I can handle the heat, dude, you saw my fucking planet." 

Dave pauses for breath, pushing his face into Karkat’s hair. Reality beckons, and he wishes he didn't have acknowledge it. 

"We're both gonna be dead meat if we don't finish fixing this thing, though. I doubt Vriska will bury us in matching graves like good romantic protagonists." 

That gets a snigger, a dirty little rumble in the back of Karkat's throat. Reluctantly, Dave tears himself away. It's a pain in the ass, but after all of this emotional turmoil, he needs some fucking coffee. Fixing the machine takes another forty minutes of infuriating tinkering, and two floods of different, boiling hot fluids. Vriska passes through three times, her impatience growing as her caffeine withdrawal deepens. Eventually, they manage to generate a liquid that matches the description of coffee but probably isn't. 

"Fuck," Karkat makes a face, "is this what it always tasted like? No wonder I avoided it like a particularly virulent case of bulgepox." 

Dave takes a deep, long sip. It tastes terrible. Familiarly terrible, though, and packed full of delicious, mind-altering drugs. It'll do. 

"Yup. Back to normal. Gross as all hell. Let's jet before the feeding frenzy begins, the Great White Snarks can smell a drop of coffee from a hundred miles away." 

Grabbing Karkat's hand, Dave pulls him out into the corridor. They pass by Vriska, who yells at them to "Get a respiteblock", but the hungry look in her eyes makes it hard to take her seriously. Besides, that's exactly what they're going to do. 

As Dave reaches around Karkat's waist, fitting their bodies together as they walk, he wonders what will happen next. It'll be good, he thinks, feeling the thrill of anticipation in his chest. He and Karkat can make it work, even if he has to talk about shit he had no intention of ever discussing with anyone. Maybe the pranks won't be quite as harsh, but that's probably for the best. If anything, he was going to struggle to come up with new ideas soon. Belatedly, he remembers where they landed in the game of give-and-take. 

"Hey, so, now we're matesprits or whatever," Dave pauses to watch the tips of Karkat's ears turn pink. That is never going to get old. "Can I have my cape back?" 

Karkat is practically bursting with satisfaction when he gazes up into Dave's eyes. 

"Did you do my laundry yet?" He asks, grinning. 

"Uh, no. Obviously not. I've been too busy getting in some hardcore sulking hours." 

"In that case, no," Karkat replies, "and may I add, fuck you." 

Dave considers that for a second, before giving the obvious answer. 

"OK, deal." 

This time, Karkat's whole face turns red. 

Snapping a picture for posterity, Dave dances out of the range of Karkat's claws and sprints toward his room. Halfway there, he lets Karkat catch him and drag him the rest of the way by his shirt-front, beaming from ear to ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! 
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading. Thank you especially to everyone who's left comments and Kudos,  
> I'm so happy this little experiment has managed to rack up over 100. 
> 
> You are all awesome.


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